


Pastries and Perfume

by icymice



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:53:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icymice/pseuds/icymice
Summary: Before Lem leaves for the Archives, he pays a visit to Emmanuel’s apartment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> undead can fuck right?? sorry about this

Emmanuel’s apartment is on the border of Roseheart and Viridian Village, in a cramped complex housing more than several Nacre refugees-- mostly the ones with enough trade skill to have made it out of the Knoll Hollow camps. It puts Lem on edge, seeing so many of them in one place doing laundry or chatting with their neighbors, but the Impetus is concentrated on Velas at the moment and doesn’t have time to spare hunting down undead blacksmiths and bakers. 

He opens the door in an apron, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his forearms specked with flour. A delicious smell wafts out into the hallway. 

“Lem. Did you have trouble finding me?” He smiles, his mouth a little crooked, and Lem’s heart leaps into his throat. 

“I’m going back to the archives.”

Emmanuel wipes his hands on his apron. “You’d better come in.”

Lem nods and follows him, ducking under the doorway which is only just too short for an orc. 

The kitchen is the most used room in Emmanuel’s apartment by far, judging from the cooking utensils sitting out to dry and the recipes scrawled on scraps of paper and pinned to the cupboards. The rest of the tiny apartment looks more like someone is camping out in it: clothes in neat piles around the living room, a bag sitting half-packed by the bedroom door. A table with a single chair is wedged between the kitchen and the living room. Emmanuel gestures to it, where a batch of pastries cools.

“Scone?” he offers. 

Lem picks one up and pops the whole thing in his mouth. It’s warm and buttery with just a hint of rosemary. He turns to look at Emmanuel with wide eyes.

“You have to take some with you,” says Emmanuel, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.

Lem finishes chewing and swallows, wiping the crumbs from his lips with the back of his hand. “I’m, um, not sure when I’ll be back,” he says.  

Emmanuel lets out a small sigh and collapses into the chair. “I should have expected as much.” 

“You could, you know, come with us.”

“We both know that’s not a good idea.”

“Listen,” says Lem. “I don’t want to leave you behind again.”

“No, it’s alright. I got your card. I know where you’ll be. There are more refugees coming to Rosemerrow, it’s important to have someone on the inside to help them avoid the Ordennans. Plus, I have a friend in the archives.”

Lem blinks. “You didn’t tell me about this?”

“No, I meant--” He sighs again and shakes his head. “Once people are settled, I’ll send word. Then we’ll see.”

“Okay. Alright.” 

“Are all archivists this busy?”

“Hm,” says Lem.

“At least let me say goodbye first.” He stumbles to his feet and tugs on the front of Lem’s shirt, and Lem bends down to meet him for a kiss. 

“Mmph--” Lem’s kissed maybe two people before meeting Emmanuel, and both of them were orcs. It takes some adjusting with the tusks. Emmanuel’s mouth is much softer. 

His tongue traces Lem’s lower lip and slips inside, and Lem makes a stifled groan, one hand coming up to rest on Emmanuel’s back and pulling him against his chest. Emmanuel laughs when they break apart, a puff of warm air on Lem’s cheek. 

“This would be easier if we were lying down.” 

“Lead the way.” Lem’s hand closes on Emmanuel’s hip, thumb circling his hip bone through the fabric of his trousers. 

“The walls are thin, so we’ll have to be quiet,” Emmanuel says as they step into his bedroom. 

The only light comes from a lantern in the corner and the moonlight streaming in through a small window. Aside from a journal sitting next to the bed, there’s hardly anything personal in it. Lem wonders for a brief and terrible moment what Emmanuel’s place looked like back in Nacre. Perhaps the recipes in the kitchen are an effort to transcribe something he lost. 

“Lem?” 

“Sorry. Got it.” 

“I know I have said this before, but you need to relax.” Emmanuel flops on the bed and pats the space beside him. 

Lem crawls over and curls around him, trying not to take up too much room. He tucks his face into Emmanuel’s shoulder and breathes in. “You smell sweet.” 

Emmanuel pinches his arm. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not, I promise.” 

Their lips meet and Emmanuel hooks a leg over Lem’s to draw them closer together. It occurs to Lem, with a spike of heat in his stomach, that Emmanuel might like a continuation of their activities from yesterday. He voices this. 

“Why,” says Emmanuel, with a frustrated huff, “do you think I invited you in here?” His teeth dig into Lem’s lower lip and Lem shivers. 

The most he can do to kiss back-- Emmanuel’s hands are all over him, palming at his chest and pulling at his hair. When they break apart, Emmanuel is panting, his mouth shining with spit and his cheeks dark. 

“Emmanuel,” Lem all but croaks, gripping his shoulder.

“Here, hold on.” Emmanuel paws at the bottom of Lem’s shirt, and Lem wriggles out of it, kicking off his trousers before helping Emmanuel undress. 

The day before, Emmanuel had led him to the back room of The Likely Striker, dropped to his knees, and made use of his mouth, and Lem had to leave before he could reciprocate. He’s determined to make it up to him.

Seeing Emmanuel naked for the first time is curious, something new. Scars and burns occasionally mark his otherwise smooth brown skin. His chest and arms are well-formed, from baking or perhaps piracy.

Emmanuel notices him staring and blushes a little. “Want to?” he asks. 

Lem strokes him gingerly, wrapping large hands around Emmanuel’s flushed length. Nestled in dark curls, it’s smaller and smoother than his own, almost velvet to the touch, and the head shines with clear liquid. He dips down to taste.

“ _ Tristero _ ,” Emmanuel curses, clutching at Lem’s shoulders, and Lem shudders, licking his lips. 

“Maybe, don’t say that,” he tells him. 

“Sorry. That feels amazing,” Emmanuel says, petting at Lem’s hair as Lem flattens his tongue over the tip. “You’re really good.”

Lem grinds against the bed as he continues, clutching at Emmanuel’s thighs. Emmanuel bites his fist to keep from making too much noise.  

“I’m close,” he warns in a hoarse voice, and Lem can feel it on his tongue, the spill of salt and Emmanuel’s cock twitching. Emmanuel gasps, his body going taut, and Lem swallows it all, his own erection pulsing in response as hot bitterness floods his mouth.

Lem crawls up beside him and Emmanuel smiles.

“I don’t think I can take this without some help,” he says, reaching between them to run his fingers over the ridges of Lem’s cock. “I want to, when we have time, when you get back-- what do you want?”

_ Everything _ , his mind supplies helpfully. “Uhh...” 

“Here.” Emmanuel kisses him and rolls over, legs pressing together, knees over his chest. He looks up with eyes dark and half-lidded and beckons to Lem. “Like this.”

Pushing himself up to a kneeling position, Lem wraps one hand around Emmanuel’s ankles and slides his cock between Emmanuel’s thighs. His body is warm and pliant from the orgasm. Emmanuel presses his thighs closer, squeezing Lem as he goes to draw back.

“Oh,” Lem says, “oh--” and Emmanuel looks up at him with parted lips and arches, brushing their cocks together and sending another jolt of pleasure through Lem. 

It only takes a few more thrusts before Lem comes over Emmanuel’s thighs and stomach, gritting his teeth to stifle a loud moan. 

After Lem’s breathing evens out, the two of them lie together in comfortable silence, Lem resting his head on Emmanuel’s arm, Emmanuel absentmindedly stroking his hair. Outside, one of the moons goes behind a cloud. Snow starts to fall, and the general din of the apartment complex settles as people return to the warmth of their homes and their beds.

Lem’s worries about going back and everything else melt away. Emmanuel’s bare skin feels so nice against his. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says quietly.

Emmanuel turns to kiss his cheek. “Just be safe, Lem. Please be safe.”


End file.
